Alice, or The Mysteries, Complete by Edward Bulwer Lytton

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Alice Or The Mysteries A Sequel to Ernest Maltravery, Complete in One Volume

embers of the fire, which threw a dim ghastly light over the chamber,fell fast asleep. The clock struck the first hour of morning, and inthat house all seemed still.

The next morning, Maltravers was disturbed from his slumber by DeMontaigne, who, arriving, as was often his wont, at an early hour fromhis villa, had found Ernest's note of the previous evening.

Maltravers rose and dressed himself; and while De Montaigne was yetlistening to the account which his friend gave of his adventure withCesarini, and the unhappy man's accusation of his accomplice, Ernest'sservant entered the room very abruptly.

"Sir," said he, "I thought you might like to know. What is to be done?The whole hotel is in confusion, Mr. Howard has been sent for, and LordDoltimore. So very strange, so sudden!"

"What is the matter? Speak plain."

"Lord Vargrave, sir,--poor Lord Vargrave--"

"Lord Vargrave!"

"Yes, sir; the master of the hotel, hearing you knew his lordship, wouldbe so glad if you would come down. Lord Vargrave, sir, is dead,--founddead in his bed!"

Maltravers was rooted to the spot with amaze and horror. Dead! and butlast night so full of life and schemes and hope and ambition.

As soon as he recovered himself, he hurried to the spot, and De Montaignefollowed. The latter, as they descended the stairs, laid his hand onErnest's arm and detained him.

"Did you say that Castruccio left the apartment while Vargrave was withyou, and almost immediately after his narrative of Vargrave's instigationto his crime?"

They hurried down the stairs; they reached the other door of Vargrave'sapartment. The notice to Howard, with the name of Vargrave underscored,was still on the panels. De Montaigne saw and shuddered.

They were in the room by the bedside. A group were collected round; theygave way as the Englishman and his friend approached; and the eyes ofMaltravers suddenly rested on the face of Lord Vargrave, which waslocked, rigid, and convulsed.

There was a buzz of voices which had ceased at the entrance ofMaltravers; it was now renewed. A surgeon had been summoned--the nearestsurgeon,--a young Englishman of no great repute or name. He was makinginquiries as he bent over the corpse.

"Yes, sir," said Lord Vargrave's servant, "his lordship told me to callhim at nine o'clock. I came in at that hour, but his lordship did notmove nor answer me. I then looked to see if he were very sound asleep,and I saw that the pillows had got somehow over his face, and his headseemed to lie very low; so I moved the pillows, and I saw that hislordship was dead."

"Sir," said the surgeon, turning to Maltravers, "you were a friend of hislordship, I hear. I have already sent for Mr. Howard and Lord Doltimore.Shall I speak with you a minute?"

Maltravers nodded assent. The surgeon cleared the room of all buthimself, De Montaigne, and Maltravers.

"Has that servant lived long with Lord Vargrave?" asked the surgeon.

"I believe so,--yes; I recollect his face. Why?"

"And you think him safe and honest?"

"I don't know; I know nothing of him."

"Look here, sir,"--and the surgeon pointed to a slight discoloration onone side the throat of the dead man. "This may be accidental--purelynatural; his lordship may have died in a fit; there are no certain marksof outward violence, but murder by suffocation might still--"

"But who besides the servant could gain admission? Was the outer doorclosed?"

"The servant can take oath that he shut the door before going to bed, andthat no one was with his lordship, or in the rooms, when Lord Vargraveretired to rest. Entrance from the windows is impossible. Mind, sir, Ido not think I have any right to suspect any one. His lordship had beenin very ill health a short time before; had had, I hear, a rush of bloodto the head. Certainly, if the servant be innocent, we can suspect noone else. You had better send for more experienced practitioners."

De Montaigne, who had hitherto said nothing, now looked with a hurriedglance around the room: he perceived the closet-door, which was ajar, andrushed to it, as by an involuntary impulse. The closet was large, but aconsiderable pile of wood, and some lumber of odd chairs and tables, tookup a great part of the space. De Montaigne searched behind and amidstthis litter with trembling haste,--no trace of secreted murder wasvisible. He returned to the bedroom with a satisfied and relievedexpression of countenance. He then compelled himself to approach thebody, from which he had hitherto recoiled.

"Sir," said he, almost harshly, as he turned to the surgeon, "what idledoubts are these? Cannot men die in their beds, of sudden death, noblood to stain their pillows, no loop-hole for crime to pass through, butwe must have science itself startling us with silly terrors? As for theservant, I will answer for his innocence; his manner, his voice attestit." The surgeon drew back, abashed and humbled, and began to apologize,to qualify, when Lord Doltimore abruptly entered.

"Good heavens!" said he, "what is this? What do I hear? Is it possible?Dead! So suddenly!" He cast a hurried glance at the body, shivered, andsickened, and threw himself into a chair, as if to recover the shock.When again he removed his hand from his face, he saw lying before him onthe table an open note. The character was familiar; his own name struckhis eye,--it was the note which Caroline had sent the day before. As noone heeded him, Lord Doltimore read on, and possessed himself of theproof of his wife's guilt unseen.

The surgeon, now turning from De Montaigne, who had been rating himsoundly for the last few moments, addressed himself to Lord Doltimore."Your lordship," said he, "was, I hear, Lord Vargrave's most intimatefriend at Paris."

"I _his_ intimate friend?" said Doltimore, colouring highly, and in adisdainful accent. "Sir, you are misinformed."

"With whom, then, do the last duties rest?" said the surgeon, turning toMaltravers and De Montaigne. "With the late lord's secretary?--I expecthim every moment; and here he is, I suppose,"--as Mr. Howard, pale, andevidently overcome by his agitation, entered the apartment. Perhaps, ofall the human beings whom the ambitious spirit of that senseless clay haddrawn around it by the webs of interest, affection, or intrigue, thatyoung man, whom it had never been a temptation to Vargrave to deceive orinjure, and who missed only the gracious and familiar patron, mournedmost his memory, and defended most his character. The grief of the poorsecretary was now indeed overmastering. He sobbed and wept like a child.

When Maltravers retired from the chamber of death, De Montaigneaccompanied him; but soon quitting him again, as Ernest bent his way toEvelyn, he quietly rejoined Mr. Howard, who readily grasped at his offersof aid in the last melancholy duties and directions.

CHAPTER VI.

IF we do meet again, why, we shall smile.--_Julius Caesar_.

THE interview with Evelyn was long and painful. It was reserved forMaltravers to break to her the news of the sudden death of Lord Vargrave,which shocked her unspeakably; and this, which made their first topic,removed much constraint and deadened much excitement in those whichfollowed.

Vargrave's death served also to relieve Maltravers from a most anxiousembarrassment. He need no longer fear that Alice would be degraded inthe eyes of Evelyn. Henceforth the secret that identified the erringAlice Darvil with the spotless Lady Vargrave was safe, known only to Mrs.Leslie and to Aubrey. In the course of nature, all chance of itsdisclosure must soon die with them; and should Alice at last become hiswife, and should Cleveland suspect (which was not probable) thatMaltravers had returned to his first love, he knew that he might dependon the inviolable secrecy of his earliest friend.

The tale that Vargrave had told to Evelyn of his early--but, according tothat tale, guiltless--passion for Alice, he tacitly confirmed; and heallowed that the recollection of her virtues, and the intelligence of hersorrows and unextinguishable affection, had made him recoil from amarriage with her supposed daughter. He then proceeded to amaze hisyoung listener with the account of the mode in which he had discoveredher real parentage, of which the banker had left it to Alice's discretionto inform her, after she had attained the age of eighteen. And then,simply, but with manly and ill-controlled emotion, he touched upon thejoy of Alice at beholding him again, upon the endurance and fervour ofher love, upon her revulsion of feeling at learning that, in herunforgotten lover, she beheld the recent suitor of her adopted child.

"And now," said Maltravers, in conclusion, "the path to both of usremains the same. To Alice is our first duty. The discovery I have madeof your real parentage does not diminish the claims which Alice has onme, does not lessen the grateful affection that is due to her fromyourself. Yes, Evelyn, we are not the less separated forever. But whenI learned the wilful falsehood which the unhappy man, now hurried to hislast account, to whom your birth was known, had imposed upon me,--namely,that you were the child of Alice,--and when I learned also that you hadbeen hurried into accepting his hand, I trembled at your union with oneso false and base. I came hither resolved to frustrate his schemes andto save you from an alliance, the motives of which I foresaw, and towhich my own letter, my own desertion, had perhaps urged you. Newvillanies on the part of this most perverted man came to my ear: but heis dead; let us spare his memory. For you--oh, still let me deem myselfyour friend,--your more than brother; let me hope now that I have plantedno thorn in that breast, and that your affection does not shrink from thecold word of friendship."

"Of all the wonders that you have told me," answered Evelyn, as soon asshe could recover the power of words, "my most poignant sorrow is, that Ihave no rightful claim to give a daughter's love to her whom I shall everidolize as my mother. Oh, now I see why I thought her affection measuredand lukewarm. And have I--I destroyed her joy at seeing you again? Butyou--you will hasten to console, to reassure her! She loves youstill,--she will be happy at last; and that--that thought--oh, thatthought compensates for all!"

There was so much warmth and simplicity in Evelyn's artless manner, itwas so evident that her love for him had not been of that ardent naturewhich would at first have superseded every other thought in the anguishof losing him forever, that the scale fell from the eyes of Maltravers,and he saw at once that his own love had blinded him to the truecharacter of hers. He was human; and a sharp pang shot across hisbreast. He remained silent for some moments; and then resumed,compelling himself as he spoke to fix his eyes steadfastly on hers.

"And now, Evelyn--still may I so call you?--I have a duty to discharge toanother. You are loved"--and he smiled, but the smile was sad--"by ayounger and more suitable lover than I am. From noble and generousmotives he suppressed that love,--he left you to a rival; the rivalremoved, dare he venture to explain to you his own conduct, and plead hisown motives? George Legard--" Maltravers paused. The cheek on which hegazed was tinged with a soft blush, Evelyn's eyes were downcast, therewas a slight heaving beneath the robe.

Maltravers suppressed a sigh and continued. He narrated his interviewwith Legard at Dover; and, passing lightly over what had chanced atVenice, dwelt with generous eloquence on the magnanimity with which hisrival's gratitude had been displayed. Evelyn's eyes sparkled, and thesmile just visited the rosy lips and vanished again. The worst becauseit was the least selfish fear of Maltravers was gone, and no vain doubtof Evelyn's too keen regret remained to chill his conscience in obeyingits earliest and strongest duties.

"Farewell!" he said, as he rose to depart; "I will at once return toLondon, and assist in the effort to save your fortune from this generalwreck: LIFE calls us back to its cares and business--farewell, Evelyn!Aubrey will, I trust, remain with you still."

"Remain! Can I not return then to my--to her--yes, let me call her_mother_ still?"

"Evelyn," said Maltravers, in a very low voice, "spare me, spare her thatpain! Are we yet fit to--" He paused; Evelyn comprehended him, andhiding her face with her hands, burst into tears.

When Maltravers left the room, he was met by Aubrey, who, drawing himaside, told him that Lord Doltimore had just informed him that it was nothis intention to remain at Paris, and had more than delicately hinted ata wish for the departure of Miss Cameron. In this emergency, Maltraversbethought himself of Madame de Ventadour.

No house in Paris was a more eligible refuge, no friend more zealous; noprotector would be more kind, no adviser more sincere. To her then hehastened. He briefly informed her of Vargrave's sudden death; andsuggested that for Evelyn to return at once to a sequestered village inEngland might be a severe trial to spirits already broken; and declaredtruly, that though his marriage with Evelyn was broken off, her welfarewas no less dear to him than heretofore. At his first hint, Valerie, whotook a cordial interest in Evelyn for her own sake, ordered her carriage,and drove at once to Lady Doltimore's. His lordship was out, herladyship was ill, in her own room, could see no one, not even her guest.Evelyn in vain sent up to request an interview; and at last, contentingherself with an affectionate note of farewell, accompanied Aubrey to thehome of her new hostess.

Gratified at least to know her with one who would be sure to win heraffection and soothe her spirits, Maltravers set out on his solitaryreturn to England.

Whatever suspicious circumstances might or might not have attended thedeath of Lord Vargrave, certain it is that no evidence confirmed and nopopular rumour circulated them. His late illness, added to the supposedshock of the loss of the fortune he had anticipated with Miss Cameron,aided by the simultaneous intelligence of the defeat of the party withwhom it was believed he had indissolubly entwined his ambition, sufficedto account satisfactorily enough for the melancholy event. De Montaigne,who had been long, though not intimately, acquainted with the deceased,took upon himself all the necessary arrangements, and superintended thefuneral; after which ceremony, Howard returned to London; and in Paris,as in the grave, all things are forgotten! But still in De Montaigne'sbreast there dwelt a horrible fear. As soon as he had learned fromMaltravers the charge the maniac brought against Vargrave, there cameupon him the recollection of that day when Cesarini had attempted DeMontaigne's life, evidently mistaking him in his delirium foranother,--and the sullen, cunning, and ferocious character which theinsanity had ever afterwards assumed. He had learned from Howard thatthe outer door had been left ajar when Lord Vargrave was with Maltravers.The writing on the panel, the name of Vargrave, would have struckCastruccio's eye as he descended the stairs; the servant was from home,the apartments deserted; he might have won his way into the bedchamber,concealed himself in the _armoire_, and in the dead of the night, and inthe deep and helpless sleep of his victim, have done the deed. What needof weapons--the suffocating pillows would stop speech and life. What soeasy as escape,--to pass into the anteroom; to unbolt the door; todescend into the courtyard; to give the signal to the porter in hislodge, who, without seeing him, would pull the _cordon_, and give himegress unobserved?

All this was so possible, so probable.

De Montaigne now withdrew all inquiry for the unfortunate; he trembled atthe thought of discovering him, of verifying his awful suspicions, ofbeholding a murderer in the brother of his wife! But he was not doomedlong to entertain fear for Cesarini; he was not fated ever to changesuspicion into certainty. A few days after Lord Vargrave's burial, acorpse was drawn from the Seine. Some tablets in the pockets, scrawledover with wild, incoherent verses, gave a clew to the discovery of thedead man's friends: and, exposed at the Morgue, in that bleached andaltered clay, De Montaigne recognized the remains of Castruccio Cesarini."He died and made no sign!"

CHAPTER VII.

SINGULA quaeque locum teneant sortita.*--HORACE: _Ars Poetica_.

* "To each lot its appropriate place."

MALTRAVERS and the lawyers were enabled to save from the insolvent bankbut a very scanty portion of that wealth in which Richard Templeton hadrested so much of pride. The title extinct, the fortune gone--so doesFate laugh at our posthumous ambition! Meanwhile Mr. Douce, withconsiderable plunder, had made his way to America: the bank owed nearlyhalf a million; the purchase money for Lisle Court, which Mr. Douce hadbeen so anxious to get into his clutches, had not sufficed to stave offthe ruin,--but a great part of it sufficed to procure competence forhimself. How inferior in wit, in acuteness, in stratagem, was Douce toVargrave; and yet Douce had gulled him like a child! Well said theshrewd small philosopher of France--"On peut etre plus fin qu'un autre,mais pas plus fin que tous les autres."*

* One may be more sharp than one's neighbour, but one can't be sharper than all one's neighbours.--ROCHEFOUCAULD.

To Legard, whom Maltravers had again encountered at Dover, the latterrelated the downfall of Evelyn's fortunes; and Maltravers loved him whenhe saw that, far from changing his affection, the loss of wealth seemedrather to raise his hopes. They parted; and Legard set out for Paris.

But was Maltravers all the while forgetful of Alice? He had not beentwelve hours in London before he committed to a long and truthful letterall his thoughts, his hopes, his admiring and profound gratitude. Again,and with solemn earnestness, he implored her to accept his hand, and toconfirm at the altar the tale which had been told to Evelyn. Truly hesaid that the shock which his first belief in Vargrave's falsehood hadoccasioned, his passionate determination to subdue all trace of a lovethen associated with crime and horror, followed so close by his discoveryof Alice's enduring faith and affection, had removed the image of Evelynfrom the throne it had hitherto held in his desires and thoughts; trulyhe said that he was now convinced that Evelyn would soon be consoled forhis loss by another, with whom she would be happier than with him; trulyand solemnly he declared that if Alice rejected him still, if even Alicewere no more, his suit to Evelyn never could be renewed, and Alice'smemory would usurp the place of all living love!

Her answer came: it pierced him to the heart. It was so humble, sograteful, so tender still. Unknown to herself, love yet coloured everyword; but it was love pained, galled, crushed, and trampled on; it waslove, proud from its very depth and purity. His offer was refused.

Months passed away. Maltravers yet trusted to time. The curate hadreturned to Brook-Green, and his letters fed Ernest's hopes and assuredhis doubts. The more leisure there was left him for reflection, thefainter became those dazzling and rainbow hues in which Evelyn had beenrobed and surrounded, and the brighter the halo that surrounded hisearliest love. The more he pondered on Alice's past history, and thesingular beauty of her faithful attachment, the more he was impressedwith wonder and admiration, the more anxious to secure to his side one towhom Nature had been so bountiful in all the gifts that make woman theangel and star of life.

Months passed. From Paris the news that Maltravers received confirmedall his expectations,--the suit of Legard had replaced his own. It wasthen that Maltravers began to consider how far the fortune of Evelyn andher destined husband was such as to preclude all anxiety for their futurelot. Fortune is so indeterminate in its gauge and measurement. Money,the most elastic of materials, falls short or exceeds, according to theextent of our wants and desires. With all Legard's good qualities he wasconstitutionally careless and extravagant; and Evelyn was tooinexperienced, and too gentle, perhaps, to correct his tendencies.Maltravers learned that Legard's income was one that required an economywhich he feared that, in spite of all his reformation, Legard might nothave the self-denial to enforce. After some consideration, he resolvedto add secretly to the remains of Evelyn's fortune such a sum as might,being properly secured to herself and children, lessen whatever dangercould arise from the possible improvidence of her husband, and guardagainst the chance of those embarrassments which are among the worstdisturbers of domestic peace. He was enabled to effect this generosityunknown to both of them, as if the sum bestowed were collected from thewrecks of Evelyn's own wealth and the profits of the sale of the housesin C-----, which of course had not been involved in Douce's bankruptcy.And then if Alice were ever his, her jointure, which had been secured onthe property appertaining to the villa at Fulham, would devolve uponEvelyn. Maltravers could never accept what Alice owed to another. PoorAlice! No! not that modest wealth which you had looked upon complacentlyas one day or other to be his.

Lord Doltimore is travelling in the East,--Lady Doltimore, lessadventurous, has fixed her residence in Rome. She has grown thin, andtaken to antiquities and rouge. Her spirits are remarkably high--not anuncommon effect of laudanum.

CHAPTER THE LAST.

ARRIVED at last Unto the wished haven.--SHAKSPEARE.

IN the August of that eventful year a bridal party were assembled at thecottage of Lady Vargrave. The ceremony had just been performed, andErnest Maltravers had bestowed upon George Legard the hand of EvelynTempleton.

If upon the countenance of him who thus officiated as a father to her hehad once wooed as a bride an observant eye might have noted the trace ofmental struggles, it was the trace of struggles past; and the calm hadonce more settled over the silent deeps. He saw from the casement thecarriage that was to bear away the bride to the home of another,--the gayfaces of the village group, whose intrusion was not forbidden, and towhom that solemn ceremonial was but a joyous pageant; and when he turnedonce more to those within the chamber, he felt his hand clasped inLegard's.

"You have been the preserver of my life, you have been the dispenser ofmy earthly happiness; all now left to me to wish for is, that you mayreceive from Heaven the blessings you have given to others!"

"Legard, never let her know a sorrow that you can guard her from; andbelieve that the husband of Evelyn will be dear to me as a brother!"

And as a brother blesses some younger and orphan sister bequeathed andintrusted to a care that should replace a father's, so Maltravers laidhis hand lightly on Evelyn's golden tresses, and his lips moved inprayer. He ceased; he pressed his last kiss upon her forehead, andplaced her hand in that of her young husband. There was silence; andwhen to the ear of Maltravers it was broken, it was by the wheels of thecarriage that bore away the wife of George Legard!

The spell was dissolved forever. And there stood before the lonely manthe idol of his early youth, Alice,--still, perhaps, as fair, and onceyoung and passionate, as Evelyn; pale, changed, but lovelier than of old,if heavenly patience and holy thought, and the trials that purify andexalt, can shed over human features something more beautiful than bloom.

The good curate alone was present, besides these two survivors of theerror and the love that make the rapture and the misery of so many of ourkind; and the old man, after contemplating them a moment, stoleunperceived away.

"Alice," said Maltravers, and his voice trembled, "hitherto, from motivestoo pure and too noble for the practical affections and ties of life, youhave rejected the hand of the lover of your youth. Here again I imploreyou to be mine! Give to my conscience the balm of believing that I canrepair to you the evils and the sorrows I have brought upon you. Nay,weep not; turn not away. Each of us stands alone; each of us needs theother. In your heart is locked up all my fondest associations, mybrightest memories. In you I see the mirror of what I was when the worldwas new, ere I had found how Pleasure palls upon us, and Ambitiondeceives! And me, Alice--ah, you love me still! Time and absence havebut strengthened the chain that binds us. By the memory of our earlylove, by the grave of our lost child that, had it lived, would haveunited its parents, I implore you to be mine!"

"Too generous!" said Alice, almost sinking beneath the emotions thatshook that gentle spirit and fragile form, "how can I suffer your_compassion_--for it is but compassion--to deceive yourself? You are ofanother station than I believed you. How can you raise the child ofdestitution and guilt to your own rank? And shall I--I--who, Heavenknows! would save you from all regret--bring to you now, when years haveso changed and broken the little charm I could ever have possessed, thisblighted heart and weary spirit? Oh, no, no!" and Alice paused abruptly,and the tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Be it as you will," said Maltravers, mournfully; "but, at least, groundyour refusal upon better motives. Say that now, independent in fortune,and attached to the habits you have formed, you would not hazard yourhappiness in my keeping,--perhaps you are right. To _my_ happiness youwould indeed contribute; your sweet voice might charm away many a memoryand many a thought of the baffled years that have intervened since weparted; your image might dissipate the solitude which is closing roundthe Future of a disappointed and anxious life. With you, and with youalone, I might yet find a home, a comforter, a charitable and soothingfriend. This you could give to me; and with a heart and a form alikefaithful to a love that deserved not so enduring a devotion. But I--whatcan I bestow on you? Your station is equal to my own; your fortunesatisfies your simple wants. 'Tis true the exchange is not equal, Alice.Adieu!"

"Cruel!" said Alice, approaching him with timid steps. "If I could--I,so untutored, so unworthy--if I could comfort you in a single care!"

She said no more, but she had said enough; and Maltravers, clasping herto his bosom, felt once more that heart which never, even in thought, hadswerved from its early worship, beating against his own!

He drew her gently into the open air. The ripe and mellow noonday of thelast month of summer glowed upon the odorous flowers, and the broad sea,that stretched beyond and afar, wore upon its solemn waves a golden andhappy smile.

"And ah," murmured Alice, softly, as she looked up from his breast, "Iask not if you have loved others since we parted--man's faith is sodifferent from ours--I only ask if you love me now?"

"More! oh, immeasurably more, than in our youngest days!" criedMaltravers, with fervent passion. "More fondly, more reverently, moretrustfully, than I ever loved living being!--even her, in whose youth andinnocence I adored the memory of thee! Here have I found that whichshames and bankrupts the Ideal! Here have I found a virtue, that, comingat once from God and Nature, has been wiser than all my false philosophyand firmer than all my pride! You, cradled by misfortune,--yourchildhood reared amidst scenes of fear and vice, which, while they searedback the intellect, had no pollution for the soul,--your very parent yourtempter and your foe; you, only not a miracle and an angel by the stainof one soft and unconscious error,--you, alike through the equal trialsof poverty and wealth, have been destined to rise above all triumphant;the example of the sublime moral that teaches us with what mysteriousbeauty and immortal holiness the Creator has endowed our human naturewhen hallowed by our human affections! You alone suffice to shatter intodust the haughty creeds of the Misanthrope and Pharisee! And yourfidelity to my erring self has taught me ever to love, to serve, tocompassionate, to respect the community of God's creatures towhich--noble and elevated though you are--you yet belong!"

He ceased, overpowered with the rush of his own thoughts. And Alice wastoo blessed for words. But in the murmur of the sunlit leaves, in thebreath of the summer air, in the song of the exulting birds, and the deepand distant music of the heaven-surrounded seas, there went a melodiousvoice that seemed as if Nature echoed to his words, and blest the reunionof her children.

Maltravers once more entered upon the career so long suspended. Heentered with an energy more practical and steadfast than the fitfulenthusiasm of former years; and it was noticeable amongst those who knewhim well, that while the firmness of his mind was not impaired, thehaughtiness of his temper was subdued. No longer despising Man as he is,and no longer exacting from all things the ideal of a visionary standard,he was more fitted to mix in the living World, and to minister usefullyto the great objects that refine and elevate our race. His sentimentswere, perhaps, less lofty, but his actions were infinitely moreexcellent, and his theories infinitely more wise.

Stage after stage we have proceeded with him through the MYSTERIES OFLIFE. The Eleusinia are closed, and the crowning libation poured.

And Alice!--Will the world blame us if you are left happy at the last?We are daily banishing from our law-books the statutes that disproportionpunishment to crime. Daily we preach the doctrine that we demoralizewherever we strain justice into cruelty. It is time that we should applyto the Social Code the Wisdom we recognize in Legislation! It is timethat we should do away with the punishment of death for inadequateoffences, even in books; it is time that we should allow the morality ofatonement, and permit to Error the right to hope, as the reward ofsubmission to its suffering. Nor let it be thought that the close toAlice's career can offer temptation to the offence of its commencement.Eighteen years of sadness, a youth consumed in silent sorrow over thegrave of Joy, have images that throw over these pages a dark and warningshadow that will haunt the young long after they turn from the tale thatis about to close! If Alice had died of a broken heart, if herpunishment had been more than she could bear, _then_, as in real life,you would have justly condemned my moral; and the human heart, in itspity for the victim, would have lost all recollection of the error.--Mytale is done.